


The Situation’s Helpless

by Alcoholic_Kangaroo



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Pedophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29994912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcoholic_Kangaroo/pseuds/Alcoholic_Kangaroo
Summary: Louie realizes that Fenton is in love with his brother and decides to take advantage of the situation
Relationships: Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Louie Duck
Comments: 12
Kudos: 8





	The Situation’s Helpless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rebldomakr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/gifts).



> Just a quick little piece I threw together in a couple of days. This is slightly reminiscent of my one Camp Camp fic, admittedly. And yes, the title is from Hamilton, as if I can be more cringe.

Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera is the absolute epitome of the good guy. He spends his days trying to fix the world with science and his nights fighting crime as a superhero. He is soft-spoken and helpful and disgustingly nice. There is always a cheerful smile on his face and spring in his step. He’s the type to shell out five extra bucks every single time the person at the checkout counter asks if he’d like to donate to a charity and the sort to go out of his way to help little old ladies safely across the street.

And he is a vile, duckling-hungry pedophile.

This is the main takeaway Louie Duck comes away with after paging through the man’s journal.

Okay, yes, reading somebody’s journal without their permission isn’t the best etiquette, but the thoughtless man had just left it lying right out in the open to be picked up and glanced over by anybody who came upon it. Well, out in the open in his bedroom. In a drawer in his desk. A drawer with a lock. But the key to said lock had just been hanging there on his keyring beside the front door and if Fenton didn’t want Louie messing with his journal, he wouldn’t have run out of the house in a hurry to stop some burglary or whatever and left him alone in his house.

Louie doesn’t usually spend much alone time with the scientist, or any adult for that matter that he is not related to. He is not an idiot and he knows what kind of adults hang out alone with kids. His brothers, with all their supposed wisdom as the elder siblings, sure can be naïve sometimes, and it has never sat right with Louie that either of them refers to a couple of adult men as their “best friends.” Not just because the three of them are supposed to be each other’s best friends but, come on, why would a couple of men that age want to hang out with a couple of tweens? Have they never watched _To Catch a Predator_?

Well, alright, Launchpad is an overgrown kid himself and he lives on the property, so the relationship between him and Dewey is a little less suspect. But Fenton and Huey? It’s not like Fenton is ever just hanging around the manor. Sure, sometimes they see him at the Money Bin, but for the most part, when the two visit they do so when Fenton is off the clock. That dick Gyro doesn’t like kids hanging around the lab that long, even Huey, and Huey, being the pussy he is, is scared of the prissy rooster.

Louie is aware that they hang out here sometimes, at Fenton’s house. Though he can’t see the appeal of trekking the distance halfway across the city because the house really is small and shabby. This had been Louie’s first visit to the place and the only reason he had even stopped by was because of a video game.

They all like video games. What twelve-year-old boys don’t like video games? Huey, however, is more of a hardcore game fanatic than either he or Dewey. His big brother saves up his meager allowances to buy them, often losing himself in the atmosphere of a new game for weeks or months at a time. But, eventually, a new one comes along, and he moves on, which is why Louie never bothers to waste his money on video games. He doesn’t mind waiting a few weeks to play a new release. Except Huey had been an idiot and lent out his copy of _Crystal Fortress_ to Fenton even though he knew that Louie had been waiting to play it.

This information was only shared with him as the oldest triplet was on his way out the door to his three-day weekend camping trip with the Junior Woodscouts, but he had at least been gracious enough to ring up Fenton on a quick call and inquire upon his status with the game.

“He said he hasn’t started a save file yet,” Huey had explained, his thumbs moving rapidly as he typed on his phone. “Here, I’m sending you his address, just stop by and he’ll give it to you.”

Easier said than done. For a genius, the man has the attention span of a half-dead housefly. He had somehow managed to lose the game disk and when Louie had pointed out the case plainly sitting right there on the living room coffee table, Fenton has picked up the case and opened it to show Louie the emptiness inside, mumbling something about having to remove it because of magnets and reverse polarity or something.

“I put it in one of these to keep it safe!” Fenton had assured him, single-handedly opening, checking, and closing a giant pile of generic white plastic CD cases. Who keeps a giant cardboard box of CD cases in the corner of their living room? Who even buys blank CDs these days? Louie had offered to help him look but his offer had been waved off with promises that he’d locate it “any second now.”

And then the call had come and he had disappeared in his Gizmosuit, commanding Louie to “Stay here where it’s safe” and assuring him “I’ll be right back.”

Stay here where it’s safe? Did he think he was Huey? That he would beg to come along and help? Like Louie has any interest in fighting crime. He just wanted to go home and mine for a fortune in video game gold and then enslave a race of dwarf servants and force them to obey his every beck and call. And that’s how he ended up stuck, waiting in the pathetic little bungalow the Cabreras call a home.

At least they had an entire box of Pep in the fridge.

He wandered around the house, ice-cold can in hand, inspecting the place. Not that there is much to inspect. One story, tiny rooms, old, yellowing paint. Only two bedrooms. The other one belongs to Fenton’s mother. When Louie opened the door, it had that distinctly female smell to it. Vaguely sweet with a hint of something dark like tobacco or incense. The chemical undertone of nail polish remover and hairspray.

Trusting his gut instinct, Louie walked directly over to the dresser, slid open the top drawer, and dug through the pile of clean panties until he found what he had expected to find.

“Mrs. Cabrera,” he grinned, holding up the rather large vibrator. It was thick and black and solid in shape, streamline with no little peripherals jutting from the sides. He wrapped his fingers around it, whistling to himself as he found his hand too small to fully engulf it. “I never would have expected you to be a size queen.”

He tucked the sex toy back where he had found it, careful to place it in the same position and general area. Then he pocketed a pair of silken red panties for later.

The first successful treasure hunt egging him on, he had then ventured on to Fenton’s room to find what he could find. But Fenton had at first appeared as wholesome in private as he does in public. Louie isn’t a nerd like his big brother, so he didn’t even attempt anything on the computer after he clicked the mouse and was immediately brought to a Sign In screen. Instead, he checked the usual places – under the bed, under the mattress, under the pillow. Inside the dressed, the closet. Until only that one drawer remained unexplored.

Louie never would have guessed that one of the keys on the chain would actually work. He grabbed them off the shelf and carried them, jingling the little metal trinkets in his hand as he did so, with very little confidence in any of them fitting the lock. He would try it, shrug, return the keys, and then maybe go find what was on the television.

Except one of the keys did slide perfectly in place and the lock clicked when he turned it and inside the little drawer Loue discovered Fenton’s secret little cubbyhole of shame.

A bottle of lotion, some tissues, an unsettlingly familiar red hat, crumpled looking as if somebody had been tightly clutching it in one hand, and the journal.

The journal was the most interesting of the filthy little secrets hidden away in that drawer. Within the pages, spelled out in excruciatingly detailed yet flowery language, were the specifics about exactly what Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera wanted to do to Louie’s big brother.

None of it was anywhere near legal.

* * *

“Fenton, I just had to see you.”

Louie presses the replay button and brings his phone to his ear.

Close. Not close enough. He presses the record button again.

“Fenton, I just had to see you!”

There we go. Getting the right pitch isn’t that difficult – they have the same throats, the same tongues, the same mouths. But Huey just possesses this natural earnestness that Louie does not. He always sounds like he just woke up and remembered it was their birthday, unless he’s in one of his rare rages, at least.

Turning to look at the mirror, Louie smiles to himself. Not a smirk but a broad, sincere smile.

“Fenton, I just had to see you!”

Perfect. Wide eyes, white teeth. Even without the hat, Louie sees his big brother looking back in the mirror rather than himself. He only needs to keep up this charade for a little while, he doesn’t think it will take long. Slipping a coat on to hide the borrowed red shirt, he double checks inside his backpack to make sure the hat is inside. Dewey eyes him suspiciously as he passes by him in the living room and heads towards the front door.

“Where are you going?”

“I have a business proposal to attend to,” he says, waving off his concern. “I'll be back for dinner.”

“For dinner?” Dewey squints at him. Despite his naivety, sometimes his brother is capable of seeing through Louie’s charades. “It’s not even noon. Huey is busy all day and you aren’t even going to hang around and keep me company?”

“Do something with Webby,” Louie replies, pulling open the door. He turns to call over his shoulder. “Some of us have responsibilities.”

As soon as he’s in the Uber, he removes the jacket and pulls the hat down over his eyes. The driver glances back at him in the mirror and Louie shoots him a large, genuinely fake smile.

Fenton looks confused when he opens the door and sees Louie standing there. He stares down at him, opens his mouth to say something, and then squints, perplexed. For a moment, Louie worries that he may be one of the rare few that can tell them apart by just their appearance. Webby can tell them apart with a glance, and they’ve never been able to fool Uncle Donald. Beakley is successful, sometimes, but not if they keep their mouths shut.

Fortunately for him, Fenton does not seem to be one of the few on that shortlist.

“Huey, what are you doing here?” Fenton asks, stepping aside so that Louie can enter the house. He closes the door and locks it behind him. It seems vaguely foreboding but maybe that's just because being locked inside a house with a pedophile isn’t a prime location for a twelve-year-old boy. “I thought you had the science fair this weekend.”

“Fenton, I just had to see you,” Louie cries out, throwing his arms around Fenton’s waist. The man stiffens at the physical contact and Louie notices the way his hands clench into fists on either side of him. Is Huey really that cruel to the poor guy? Never throwing him the most minuscule of bones? This is going to be easier than he previously thought. “They disqualified my entry to the science fair, they claimed I had help building the robot and it wouldn’t be fair to the other kids.”

“What?” Fenton exclaims. His hands are so light on Louie’s shoulders he may as well be a couple of lightly fluttering butterflies. He doesn’t try to push him away, that would require more extensive physical contact. “That’s ridiculous, you put so much work into it, and you did it all on your own!”

“I know,” Louie sniffs. He buries his face into Fenton’s chest, tightening his grip around the man’s waist. He’s skinny, the type of frame that would be considered lanky if he had been taller. Instead, he is petite. The hands on Louie’s shirt curl around the knobs of his shoulders, the nails not quite digging into his flesh. Louie can feel the heart going berserk inside the narrow rib cage just beneath his cheek. “I just, I was so upset, and I just, I needed to see you.”

“M, me?” Fenton stumbles, his breath catching in his throat. Has Huey ever even given the poor guy a hug? Ever blessed him with any touch whatsoever? He’s hot even through his shirt and smells pleasantly of motor oil and some sort of spicy deodorant. “I mean, yes, of course. Coming to me was a great idea, as a respected scientist. I can, I’ll go over to the convention center and explain that you worked so hard on your project and-”

“No,” Louie objects, shaking his head. There’s a damp spot forming on the man’s shirt from the humidity of his breath. The little bump of a nipple stands out just slightly beneath the fabric. Louie nuzzles into the soft heat of the man’s chest, feeling the little bud harden against his temple. “I don’t even want to think about that place, it was so humiliating. I just knew I needed to be with you, that you would make me feel better?”

“I, I’ll make you feel better?” Fenton asks, swallowing.

“I always feel happy when I’m around you,” Louie says, adding a little pout to his voice that he hopes is seductive and not just weird. He’s never heard Huey try to speak seductively before so adding an accent to a voice that is already fake is a little difficult. On the other hand, Fenton has probably never heard Huey try to sound sexy either.

“Uh, well,” Fenton reaches behind himself and pries Louie’s hands from where they are buried into his shirt and feathers. “I’ll do my best. Come sit down on the couch, I’ll get you a drink.”

“Can’t we sit in your bedroom?” Louie asks, turning his big eyes onto the man. Big eyes. Wide yes. Yes, keep them open so they tear up a little from dryness. Let them shine. A little whimper emits from the man’s throat that he hides quickly with a small cough.

“M’ma just barely went to work,” Fenton says, turning away from Louie’s gaze. He starts to walk towards the couch. “We can play games on the big TV today.”

“I don’t want to play games,” Louie says, warbling pathetically. He follows after the older duck, reaching out to grab for the back of his shirt before he gets too far. When he feels the small tug on his button-down, Fenton stops immediately in his tracks, and Louie steps closer to him, enveloping him from behind now. “I just want to hear your voice. Can you read to me?”

“Read to you?” Fenton’s voice sounds breathy. Louie can feel his words where his ear is pressed into the man’s back. “I, yes, I suppose I can read to you. Is there anything you want me to read in particular?”

“Something you liked when you were my age.”

Louie sits on the edge of Fenton’s little twin bed as Fenton digs around in the closet for a suitable book. The bed is small, maybe even smaller than Louie's own bed, it's hard to tell since his own feels somewhat claustrophobic with the bars on the sides and Dewey's mattress over his head. Louie runs his palm over Fenton's sheets, noting the low thread count. There is a lot of banging going on in inside the closet, a lot of things being tossed out of it into a small pile on the floor. After a few minutes, the man finally emerges, wiping a cobweb from his hair, with a worn-looking paperback novel in his hand. There seems to be a planet on the cover and what appears to be a green alien in a suit.

“This is probably a little immature for you,” the man smiles hesitantly at Louie. “But, um, I really liked it a lot.” He walks across the room, clearing the distance in just a half dozen strides. His legs are far from what Louie would consider long, the room is just tiny. Fenton looks around it for a moment, his eyes landing on the desk chair, but before he can go for it Louie has grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him down onto the bed beside him. The frame creaks.

“What’s it about?” Louie asks, faking interest in some dorky sci-fi book he’ll forget about before he even leaves the room. He's still holding Fenton's wrist in his hand and he subtly checks the guy's pulse. His heart is racing.

“Aliens,” Fenton says. He looks at Louie’s legs from beneath his lashes and then first scoots away from him, then back so that he can lean against the wall that frames his mattress. His legs just barely jut out over the edge of the bed, his feet hanging free in the air. Louie’s legs only reach half the same distance when he joints him, sidling up close so they are shoulder to shoulder, or shoulder to armpit anyway. He feels so oddly soft through his clothes despite his thinness. “It’s about these aliens that come to Earth to judge it and decide if it deserves saving or destroying.”

“Sounds like an old Twilight Zone episode,” Louie observes. He might not read much but he does watch a lot of TV.

“Yeah!” Fenton agrees, beaming. He opens the book and shifts his body, settling down. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was based on an episode.”

The book is dull. The aliens aren’t weird enough and they just stand around talking like humans and one of them has a pet blob that sounds disgustingly cute. And all the aliens have super complicated names that Fenton fumbles to pronounce and somehow manages to say differently every single time. But it doesn’t matter, Louie just needs Fenton distracted and it seems to work because old nerdy dudes like Fenton always have a soft spot for the stuff they liked as kids.

The journey is slow. First, he leans against his side. Rests his head against the man's shoulder. Once Fenton’s body has relaxed, he sets his hand on the older duck’s knee. The man’s voice catches in his throat but before long he is lost in his book once more. Then he moves his hand just subtly up the guy’s thigh, at an unnoticeable rate, an action that Fenton would assume Huey wouldn’t even notice he was doing but Fenton absolutely would because before long Fenton is crossing his legs beneath him, muttering something about his legs cramping. As if he wasn’t trying to hide the little stirring between his legs.

It doesn’t take more than twenty minutes before Louie is in Fenton’s lap. His back is against the man’s chest and Fenton’s arms are wrapped loosely around him, holding out the book before him. It would be a rather normal position if Louie were closer to, say, kindergarten age, and not mere months from becoming a teenager. But Huey can get away with things Louie never could, like unbridled physical affection. Louie’s own legs are bent over the little barrier that Fenton’s folded legs create, his behind pressing directly onto his crotch. It’s not the most comfortable position, the older duck has boney legs and a small lap, but he wiggles close, tilting his head so that his face rests against his chest, and sighs contentedly like this is the most comfortable position in the world.

By the time that Louie tilts his head up and tries to kiss him, Fenton is a sweating, overheated mess, stumbling over his words, his heart working hard in his chest. They both pretend not to notice the erection digging into Louie’s lower back. Despite all this, Fenton stops him as Louie’s beak almost touches his. There is no gentleness to his touch this time, he holds Louie away with a steel grip, but when he asks what Louie, or Huey rather, is trying to do, he is almost sobbing.

“I really like you, Fenton,” Louie breathes in his saccharine Huey voice. “You make me feel so good when I’m with you. Mentally, and physically. I think of you all the time, I can’t get you out of my head, even, even when I’m alone in bed at night.”

“Huey, you’re _twelve_ ,” Fenton cries out, shaking him. Not hard, but enough to make the mattress squeak beneath them. “I’m twenty-five. That’s more than twice your age. You can’t just try to kiss me!”

“I’m much older, mentally,” Louie says. He wiggles beneath the man’s hand and Fenton releases him, allowing Louie to turn in his lap. His arms go around Fenton’s neck. “And I’m not _trying_ to do anything, I know I can achieve anything I put my mind into doing.”

Fenton freezes when Louie kisses him. His hands hang in the air, trembling, unsure what to do with them as the little duckling on his lap tightens his chokehold around his neck and pulls himself up higher. Louie has never kissed another person before. He knows the gist of it but he suspects his technique is clumsy and juvenile as he prods at Fenton’s mouth with his tongue. Of course, juvenile is exactly what Fenton is into and finally, Fenton’s arms snake around him and Louie is receiving his first French kiss in his life.

It’s slimier than he would have thought. He wipes at the spit, then rubs it off on his Fenton’s arm on his hip.

“I’m so glad my first kiss was with you,” Louie simpers in his oversentimental Huey voice. “I was saving it for you.”

A small moan comes from the older duck and Louie doesn’t even have time to react before he’s being kissed against. The second kiss is more desperate. Slender fingers are in Louie’s hair, he feels the hat brushed from his head, hears it land with a small thump. But his eyes are closed, and everything is taste and smell and feel. Fenton’s tongue is large in his mouth, rubbing against his own smaller appendage. Almost aggressive. Then it laps at the roof of his mouth. It’s so big, really too big to fit in a little duckling’s mouth, and Louie is having trouble catching his breath.

But Fenton is panting too when he pulls away from the this one. Louie stiffens, thinking that he must be about to come to his senses and push him away, but Fenton just pulls him closer, a hand cradling the back of his skull. He’s hugging him, so tight it hurts and Louie is afraid he’s about to crack his ribs.

“This is so wrong,” Fenton cries, his face buried in Louie’s neck. His tears are wet through the down on his throat. Yet his hands are moving, touching him wherever he can, on his shoulders and around his waist and then one is cupping him on the butt, right beneath the tail, pulling him forward. “This is absolutely disgusting but I can’t help myself, I’ve wanted you for so long, Huey. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Louie lies, but maybe it isn’t really a lie. If he’s supposed to be Huey he’s probably telling the truth. Huey probably doesn’t love Fenton in the way Fenton loves Huey but he’s sure there is some sort of love there for the scientist. “It’s not wrong if we both want it.”

Fenton doesn’t reply. He’s too busy crying like the pathetic little pussy he is. He’s clutching onto Louie like he’s a pillow rather than a potential sex partner and his tears are starting to go cold, prompting a series of goosebumps to pop up in a line down his spine. After a couple of minutes, Louie has to accept the fact that if left to his own devices, Fenton is probably not going to do anything else tonight besides hold him and sob like a little bitch.

So Louie takes the initiative once more. Apparently, he has to do everything. Slowly, he wriggles his hand between their bodies, a rather daunting task considering how Fenton is clutching at him and feels around until he finds it. It’s not as stiff as it had been pressed against Louie’s lower back but he’s still more hard than soft. But when he wraps his fingers around the duck’s cock, the man shudders as if he had just been punched.

“Shh,” Louie whispers quietly, using his free hand to stroke Fenton’s hip soothingly. “I’m going to take care of you now. Just stop worrying.”

“Huey-”

Louie kisses him to shut him up. Feeling just the slightest bit insulted that his first sexual experience with another living person includes that person calling him by his brother’s name the entire time. He tries to copy the movement he would use on himself with Fenton’s cock, but it’s much bigger than Louie’s own pubescent dick and the angle is odd. He ends up turning his upside down so that his thumb is on the bottom instead of the top and that angle is easier on his arm.

“Fenton, you’re so big,” Louie whimpers, giving the erection an affectionate little squeeze. He adds his other hand to the mix, sliding the fingers below the other ones. He's still not even covering half of the penis but Louie knows he has very small hands. “So big. I don’t know if I’ll be even able to fit it inside my little body.”

“Fit, fit it inside…” Fenton trails off. He looks like he just made first contact with aliens and they had already decided the Earth wasn’t worth saving after all. His mouth hangs slightly open, his breathing sounds as labored as if he’s just run five miles. “Huey, you don’t have to, we can’t-”

Louie reaches behind himself and squeezes the hand holding him beneath his tail. He moves it down to his hole, going so far as to guide one of Fenton's finger to his opening. Fenton doesn't try to push it in but he circles the tight opening with the tip, feeling Louie's heat radiating from inside. “Be gentle with me, Fenton. Please make sure you do a good job getting me ready.”

“I, yes,” Fenton nods, swallowing. 

He uses that lotion Louie had previously seen in the drawer, banging his knees against his desk in a hurry to get to it. But he doesn’t curse or shout like Louie would in that situation; he’s back in seconds with the bottle. Louie turns onto his stomach and sticks his butt up in the air, presenting himself like a bitch in heat ready for mating, looking back over his shoulder at the frazzled duck with his big eyes and pouting mouth.

Fenton is vibrating so hard that Louie thinks having his fingers inside him must feel about the same as Mrs. Cabrera’s dildo, although certainly a much smaller version. He uses his mouth first, his tongue just as slimy in his asshole as it had been in his mouth. Louie doesn’t get much out of it. It doesn’t hurt but it doesn’t hit anything worth hitting either. The fingers are better. The stretch of his asshole around the man’s fingers is satisfying, itching a scratch that Louie didn’t know he had. His own cock is throbbing between his thighs before long, and once he has slipped the last finger in there he finally touches something that has Louie crying out so desperately he nearly forgets to use his Huey voice when he asks for more. 

Overall, he would have preferred to do it in this position, his back to Fenton, his head comfortably seating on a pillow, but Fenton is a romantic and sucker and he takes Louie face to face instead. Kissing him and moving inside him deep and slow.

Before he pushes in though, he kneels there between Louie’s legs for a long moment, his cock red and hard in his hand, and just stares at the duckling lying there, spread out with lube glistening on his white feathers like a flocked Christmas tree. Louie thinks at first that he is trying to memorialize the moment but the duck is mumbling something in Spanish and he recognizes _Dios_ , the word for God, and _por favor_ , please. The rest is entirely lost on him. Louie feels deliciously vulnerable, his empty insides throbbing, wanting to be filled once more.

“Please, Fenton,” he begs softly, holding out his arms, and that’s all it takes. The man rests his forehead against Louie’s shoulder as his hand guides his cock between the boy’s thighs. It hurts. Not as badly as Louie had feared it would, but he's far too big for a boy as small as Louie to easily take. But at least he's slow about it, taking his time just pushing in a little at a time as Louie breathes heavily, head dizzy, and clutches at the sheets. It feels like a muscle cramp in his asshole, as if the sensation of a charley horse had somehow shot up to his opening, and he supposes that the sphincter is just a muscle, after all. So he shouldn't be surprised by the way it aches but somehow he still is and he has to fight back the tears as his body adjusts. He convinces himself his asshole is not being split open, despite how it feels. Once he's pressed flushed against him, Louie can feel the hard cock so deep it's like it's bunch him in his stomach. Fenton kisses him then, sloppily and lovingly, holding Louie's face in his hands as he waits for his body to ease up.

It’s not fucking. It’s not sex. Or copulating or screwing or banging. Louie recognizes that Fenton is making love to him, but really he’s making love to Huey because this man loves his big brother even though to do so is such a horrible thing. He’s not Huey but he reaps the rewards of Fenton’s love, the sex is slow and deep and passionate and the more Fenton kisses him the more he decides kissing isn’t that bad. He’s a thorough lover, responding to the slightest movement of Louie’s body, changing the angle, the speed, the depth. Before long, every thrust is hitting that part inside him that leaves him seeing stars and Louie is barely keeping up his Huey-charade, clutching onto Fenton’s shoulders, dipping his nails into his upper back as he gasps and just goes along for the ride.

Louie comes first. Fenton makes sure of it. His hand, as small as it is for a grown man, is large on Louie’s dick but he handles it as if he’s done so a million times before. Maybe experience with his own pre-teen dick or maybe his fantasies for the last year of fucking his big brother were really that in-depth. Louie spills over the man’s delicate fingers and the world spins around him at the intensity.

Fenton finishes inside him. He’s quick about it, having edged himself to that point, and Louie’s head is still buzzing when the man collapses onto him. He’s damp with sweat. He kisses Louie’s throat, his chest, his stomach.

The afterglow doesn’t last long. The pressure of having a large dick up inside his guts has left Louie with the urge to pee. He sits up, pushing the other man unceremoniously off of his prone body. He reaches for the discarded red shirt.

When he speaks, he is not speaking in his Huey voice.

“Never thought you’d have it in you to fuck a little kid, doc.”

Fenton looks absolutely horrified. He is up in seconds, his hands covering his wet, half-hard dick, as his mouth flaps and his unnaturally wide eyes stare at the duckling still in his bed.

“Louie?”

“I need to piss,” Louie says, ignoring the question. He leaves the hat on the floor and reaches up to play with his hair, reshaping the bangs to his preferred style. “When we get back, you get to tell me exactly how much you’re willing to pay to keep this whole child molester thing a secret.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I realize Louie probably could have just blackmailed him with the journal but let’s pretend that wasn’t enough proof for some reason.


End file.
